Marching On
by i-am-wholocked
Summary: Harry Watson wants to help her little brother fit in, and she thinks marching band will honestly help him. He isn't thrilled with the idea, but then he meets the mysterious upperclassmen Sherlock Holmes and everything changes. Teenlock BandCamp Crack!fic alternate universe. Rated M for language/themes, but as usual with my fics, not graphic imagery!
1. First Impressions

**Author's Note: Well, here is another one of my lovely crack fics. Band camp got to me, and so here you go. I had to do it. Thanks to my mellophone bestie, ConsultingDectective-L for basically inventing this with me during practice. **

The Watson's car rolled into the parking lot of the college campus where sophomore John and his senior sister, Harry, would be spending the next two weeks at high school, overnight band camp. The girl parked, while her brother complained, "I can't believe you're making me do this! I hate my clarinet with a burning passion! I don't want to spend an entire season playing the bloody thing."

The two siblings had moved to America from England the previous summer, and Harry's easy way of making friends was band. John, on the other hand, had tried American football and failed to fit in with the team. Now his older sister had convinced him to take up a new hobby, one that might help him meet people.

Harry reassured him, "You're going to love it John. Even if you don't love playing clarinet, you'll love spending time with this band. They're great!"

They got out of the car, Harry with her brand-new trombone and John with his mother's tattered, hand-me-down clarinet. The elder led her brother toward the hall where they would meet up with the rest of the band to get their rooming assignments.

In the hall, upperclassmen held up whiteboards with instruments written on them in black ink. Harry coaxed her brother over toward the tubby boy holding the clarinet sign, and made her way toward her girlfriend, Clara, who clutched a board labeled "Trombones".

Nervously John croaked, "Um Hi. I'm John Watson, sophomore clarinet."

The pudgy boy with the whiteboard smiled and held out his hand. John shook it as the other said, "My name's Mike Stamford. I'm a senior clarinetist, and I'm very glad that we finally have another man in the section! I've spent three years with these crazy girls, though it isn't all that bad. Some of them are pretty hot." John snickered; he already liked Mike. Maybe band wouldn't be that bad.

Mike continued, "I can help you with anything you need. I'll show you the ropes, no worries, bro."

John replied, "Thanks, I appreciate it!"

Stamford inquired, "Your accent, is that British?"

The sophomore nodded. Mike added, "Oh yeah, you're that Harry girl's younger brother. Cool, she'd be a major hottie, if it weren't for her unfortunate orientation. Too bad, the best girls are always gay." He shook his head.

Confused John barked, "What? My sister's girlfriend?"

Mike laughed and realized John wasn't aware of his sister's sexuality. He explained, "I guess you didn't know… sorry you had to find out this way. I assumed you knew. Your sister is a lesbian."

"Oh . . ." John murmured. Bloody hell, now that didn't help his own confused orientation. Last year, he'd had a crush on a guy in his math class. He'd brushed it off as nothing, but hearing about his sister reminded him of the way he felt. Shit.

Mike chuckled at John's odd reaction, but of course he had no idea with the boy flushed up bright red.

Suddenly, as if out of thin air, a lean, tall, curly-haired boy approached the pair. He dressed well, wearing dark trousers and a purple button-up. He carried two black cases in his left hand, and a high-end leather suitcase in the other. The attractive, mysterious figure asked, "Mike, do you know where Dr. Lee is? All the trumpets are here and they desperately want their room keys. I can't deal with their irritating whining any longer."

Awkwardly, John croaked, "Woah, you're English too?"

The taller boy, who hadn't seen the other clarinetist until he spoke, looked at Mike snapped, "Who's he?"

Mike replied, "That's the new guy. John. He's Harry brother."

The puzzling one sneered, "Oh well she's a feisty one. Can't stand that brat. Not that I enjoy anyone's company really. But I'm sure you know how that feels, since you have to live with her."

Formally introducing them, Mike included, "And John, this is the band's other Brit, Sherlock Holmes. He's a junior trumpet, but he's the section leader, because he's been here basically forever. He started when his older brother joined. Now, his big-deal, college brother holds a minor position in the university mellophone section!"

Sherlock corrected him, "Mycroft IS their entire mellophone section!"

Mike chuckled, "Ok, ok. Well, anyway, I saw Dr. Lee go that way." He pointed a chubby finger toward the door of an office labeled _Housing Staff_.

"Thanks Mike," Sherlock shouted as he ran off to find the director.

Immediately John became curious to know more about the odd trumpet player. He turned to Mike, "What's up with him? He seems… odd, for lack of a better term."

The section leader described, "He's a wacko genius from across the pond. You know how those types are, right? Completely bonkers and really rude. In the off-season he's insanely devoted to his violin and constantly chasing down criminals. He's been in trouble with the cops a few times for trying to get involved in cases. Pretty creepy guy if you ask me. He always requests to come to band camp without a roommate, but this year we have an even number of guys so it sounds like he might not get his way. He'll be throwing a hissy fit tomorrow at practice. Come on, let's go get our room assignments!"

John followed the upperclassmen, suddenly excited to be at band camp!


	2. Evening Meal

**Authors Note: School. Marching Band. Life. Sorry.**

Mike dropped John off at the door to his assigned room 221, floor B. The section leader declared, "Well, I'm right down that hall, in room 230, if you need anything! I hope you get a great roommate! See ya at dinner!" John bid the other adieu and unlocked the door to his dorm. Inside the symmetrical room held two identical beds, cabinets, desks and mirrors. Compact shelving was built next to the beds and along the walls. In the center of the room on the far wall, a black microwave and a miniature refrigerator sat under a window.

John unpacked his things and made his bed, and then sat down to look over the music he needed to memorize before the end of camp.

Several moments later, his roommate walked in. John looked up from his charts. Standing before him, Sherlock mumbled, "Well I guess we're roommates. I always request to be alone. There must be an even number of boys in band this year. Well, I hope you don't mind dealing with me. Ha, who am I kidding? You'll be asking to move out tomorrow morning."

John couldn't formulate a response as he intently watched the other boy organize his cases on his bed. Sherlock unlatched the leather suitcase and began removing well-tailor clothing from it. He put each neatly pressed shirt into the closet on the wall, and then removed the thick books from the leather bag. He placed them on the wooden desk. When he was finished, he stood up and ran his right hand through his dark curls, as if trying to remember what he planned on doing next. The baffling boy turned around and faced John. He muttered, "I'm sorry, but I'm just not used to being around other people much. Could you… um just step out for a moment?"

Watson didn't know why his roommate was asking something like this, but he nodded anyway, grabbed his sheet music and headed out the door.

That evening at dinner John filled his tray of cafeteria food and sat down with the rest of the clarinet section. As they ate, Mike and the girls yammered on about some band gossip. He caught a few bits and pieces, but Jack making out with Sally in the corner didn't really interest him. (Especially because he didn't know Jack and Sally.) Rather, his attention was devoted to his inexplicable roommate, who sat alone a few tables away. In front of Sherlock Holmes rested a bare tray, with nothing but a glass of water, half full. His eyes were entirely focused on a heavy textbook. John could only make out part of the title, which read, "Anatomy".

Mike, seated across from Watson, sneered, "Oh, would you stop staring at Sherlock? We can all tell you're basically obsessed with him. Are you into him or something?"

John turned back to his section leader, blinked to attention and defensively stuttered, "No, no I'm not gay!"

The older replied, "Sure you aren't!" The girls appropriately followed with a symphony of giggles. Then Mike took on a serious tone and continued, "John, it's fine if you are, but just not for that bloke ok? He's bad news. Remember what I said earlier? He's completely off his rocker."


End file.
